Thinking of You
by Randomly Smurfy
Summary: How do I get better once I've had the best?


**Disclaimer:** If I owned Hannah Montana, would I really need to write fanfiction? I would just have them get together on the show. DUH.

Thinking of You  
one-shot  
by Randomly smuRfy

**Prompt:** Simply listening to Katy Perry's Thinking of You. I saw the music video and cried because Matt Dallas (from Kyle XY) was in it, and, well, it was so sad. Go watch it...after you read this, that is.

* * *

_When I'm with him, I am thinking of you...  
_

Nearly ramming my back into the wall, he pressed his mouth hard down on mine, his lips coercing mine open. I consented only because I knew I didn't have the energy to push him off. He wasn't being gentle or protective. His kisses were about dominance, lust. His hands grabbed at my waist, and he pulled me toward him. There was no love in his rough touch, none in his hungry eyes.

I wondered if he noticed that I lacked the enthusiasm that he wanted. He was maneuvering my movements, my unwilling reactions to his caresses. I made no move to have him any closer to me. If I were being absolutely honest with myself, I probably wouldn't have let him touch me with a ten-foot pole.

It's a good thing I wasn't being honest with myself.

He whispered my name, and I cringed, feeling disgusted. No doubt misinterpreting my body's response to him, he pushes against me, making it hard to breathe. Passing out right now would be heaven for me. He probably wouldn't notice anyway.

He's nothing like you. At first glance, anyone would believe he was you. The shaggy, brown hair, the green-brown eyes, the crooked grin, maybe even his voice could fool them. But he's no you. You were gentle with me, patient. You asked me what I thought. You didn't just assume that I liked how you handled me, how you held me.

I couldn't take it anymore. With all the strength I could muster, I pushed him away and hurried to the bathroom. I slammed then locked the door before I promptly emptied the contents of my stomach into the toilet bowl. When I was certain there was nothing left to throw up, my body forced itself off the floor without my knowledge. The room spun about me, or perhaps that's just in my head. I got a hold on the counter then turned on the water faucet. My hands dipped themselves under the icy water before splashing it back in my face.

Once I was a little calmer and no longer had that awful taste in my mouth, I stared at myself in the mirror. I looked ill. My face was thin, pallid. My eyes had taken on a gray tint; no longer the bright blue they used to be. I had dark circles under them, and my sickly complexion made the few freckles I did have stand out. My blonde hair had a sheen to it that didn't look appealing. My shirt was stretched at the collar from all his tugging, and red marks were starting to show on my upper arms from his savage grasping. My lips were bruised and chapped. Revolted, I threw more water at myself.

How did things get so bad?

* * *

"_I'm not going_," I said decidedly. I set my suitcases down and refused to take another step. You chuckled at my stubbornness.

"_Yes, you are, Lilly. You know you want to_," you breathed into my ear. I whirled around to face you.

"_No. No, I don't. I don't want to go to New York. It's on the other side of the continent. It's too far_," I rambled, throwing my arms around your neck. Your arms snaked around my waist, and I nestled my face into your shoulder. "_It's too far away from everything I know. Away from you_."

You chuckled again. It was a deep rumbling in your chest that reverberated through me. I smiled into your shirt. "_You say that now, but just wait. You're going to get to New York, meet a ton of cool people at Columbia, have awesome professors with lots of degrees, party 'til three in the morning in trendy clubs...you're going to love it there_."

"_Impossible_," I challenged, cleaving to you tighter. "_I'm going to hate it from the moment I get off that plane. I'm going to cry myself to sleep every night. I'm going to flunk out of my first semester. That's why I'm not going_."

You pulled back a little and looked at me. Your eyes were gracious and loving, and I knew that I would never find anyone else that could hold a fraction of that passion for me than you. You glanced down at my lips, so I stood on my toes and melded my lips to yours. You were warm, comforting, and I wanted nothing more than to stay right there with you. Who cared that we were kissing at the airport? Who cared that your car was parked in the drop-off lane, with the chance of it getting towed? Who cared that my flight was scheduled to leave in twenty minutes?

I didn't.

"_Lilly_—"

"_No_," I argued, pulling your lips back down to mine.

"_Lils, your flight_—"

"_Can wait_." If you were really letting me leave, despite how much I didn't want to, I was going to get as much as I could out of my time with you.

You put your hands on both sides of my face and delicately pushed me back. "_It's time to go_," you told me with a soft smile.

"_No_," I said, burying my face into your chest. Tears were budding out of my eyes and soaking your shirt, but you just held me firmly as I cried. "_If you loved me, you wouldn't let me go_."

"_I love you, that's why I'm letting you go_," you said, giving my shoulders a tight squeeze.

"_I hate you, Oliver_," I grumbled. You chuckled once more, as you placed a tender kiss on the top of my head.

"_I know you do_."

You left me to board that plane by myself, and I cried the entire time. Not big, over-dramatic sobbing and weeping, but tears definitely streamed from my eyes. The flight attendants must've assumed that someone I knew had died. More like a piece of me died.

I was right. I hated New York. I hated it the moment the plane landed. It was crowded and loud, and I never got a moment's peace.

You were wrong. I didn't meet cool people. I met rich snobs. I didn't have awesome professors with lots of degrees. I had condescending professors with lots of degrees. I didn't party 'til three in the morning at trendy clubs. I stayed in my dorm room every night, hoping that you would call. And when you didn't, I would try not to cry myself to sleep. I always gave in, though. There were even nights that I would imagine you next to me in bed just so I could fall asleep.

But I didn't flunk out of my first semester. School was the only thing that could take my mind off the pain of being away from you. Instead, I kept my grades up, so that when I applied for a transfer, there was no way any college would refuse me. There was no way UCLA could refuse me.

It wasn't until I checked my voicemail after class one day that everything shattered like glass.

"_Oliver's been in a car accident, Lilly. It looks really bad_," Miley's voice broke as she said the words. Before I knew it, I had a hopped a plane home and was by your side in the hospital. I held your hand and vowed to stay with you, but you said _no_.

"_You have to go back. You can do so much better than Malibu_," you urged me. I shook my head. I was determined to stay. You let me go once. I wasn't going to let that happen again. You saw that_. "If I told you that I didn't love you, would you go back_?"

I shook my head again, telling you that I wouldn't believe you. You never were the best liar. And I was too far in to leave if you actually meant it. "_I'm not leaving_."

You looked me in the eyes and so fiercely said, "_Lilly_. Go."

And I went.

And here I am.

In the apartment of some guy in my Eastern Religions class, whose name I wouldn't let myself think. So far from home. So far gone that I'd become someone I didn't recognize. So, I pushed my hair out of my eyes, took a deep breath, and then left the bathroom. He was in the kitchen as I headed for the door. When he asked me where I was going, I only said one word:

Home.

* * *

At almost five in the morning, it was raining heavily as the taxi drove up into the driveway. I threw my bags out of the car and tossed a bill at the driver. It could have been a twenty. Maybe it was a fifty. I couldn't've cared less. I grabbed my suitcases and ran through the rain up to the covered porch. As the bags fell from my hands, I knocked rapidly on the door. It opened a few long moments later, and you blinked a couple of times before you saw me. You ran your fingers through your hair as you stared at me. I was drenched from the rain, I hadn't changed my clothes from last night, and I was exhausted.

"You look awful," you said, before you gripped one of my shoulders and wretched me into your welcoming arms.

I cracked a small smile then said, "I blame you." You pulled back to look me with wondering eyes. "When will you get it through your skull that I can't leave you?"

You chuckled and held me closer.

_In your eyes, I'd like to stay..._

Fin.

* * *

**AN:** so, this wasn't the original ending i was going to give this, but i would be so mad at myself if it didn't have a happy ending. if you'd like, i can post the ending it would've had. mind you, it is a lot sadder.

btw;; i listened to this song close to fifty times before i finished this one-shot. just a little fun fact.

_smuRfy_


End file.
